The Blind Banker
by LostPipersChild
Summary: The hunt for a new flat has lead Gwen right back into the path of one Sherlock Holmes. Hogwarts was only the beginning, and with dead curse breakers and mysterious symbols, can Sherlock put up with Gwen long enough to solve it? Sequal to A Study in Emerald, suggested you read that first.
1. Chapter 1

The Blind Banker

Chapter One

It's a rather disconcerting thing, to finish school. It's like being a chick and suddenly being kicked out of the nest. Either you spread your wings and fly, or you splat into a life of living with your parents until you're forty. This was the one thing I was determined would not happen to me and this was how I ended up lying early one Monday morning halfway through September, in someone else's bed. It was Albus Potter's bed I think and no, this isn't as bad as it sounds. After the summer had ended I had been given an apprenticeship with the Gringotts curse breakers. Lilly had dove headfirst into the Ministry and landed herself an interesting job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

Upon hearing of my success at the bank she had invited me to stay with her at her parents' house until I could get my own place. With my new job earning me little more than knuts, that didn't look like it would be happening anytime soon. Albus' room had stood empty for three years now so it had been allocated to me (James' room still smelt faintly of gunpowder).

My alarm clock went and I punched it wearily. The daily grind was already getting to me and I dragged myself out of bed with an ill-grace. Downstairs I found Lilly and her mother eating breakfast. Or at least, Mrs Potter was, Lilly was rushing around, stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth with one hand and brushing her hair with the other.

"Ernie just called!" she said, pointing at the fire where emerald flames were just dying. "Some daft bugger has just crash-landed his broom in the English Channel and some French news team saw him! I have to get to the office quick before the département de la coopération magique lot turn up!"

And with that she turned on the spot and disapperated with a loud crack. I stared at the spot where she'd vanished in disbelief.

"Oh come on! She knows I didn't pass my test!" I said furiously to no one in particular. Mrs Potter smiled and shook her head.

"Don't worry dear, I'll take you to work." she said soothingly and at once I felt guilty.

"Oh you don't have to do that Mrs Potter." I said, blushing deep crimson but she waved her hand airily.

"Please it's a relief! I need to go down to Diagon Alley anyway, and Harry has been too busy to go lately. And how many times to I have to tell you its fine for you to call me Ginny?"

I grinned sheepishly and sat down at the table. Living with the Potters was very pleasant, but I always had a feeling that I was scrounging off their kindness, and the kinder they were, the worse I felt. I missed the certainty of life at school.

I should probably fill you in on what our last few months were like at Hogwarts. After our action-packed first term, things had got boring again very quickly. Lilly and John's romance had fizzled out around Christmas but the parting had been mutual and they remained friends. Sherlock had I had struck up, if not a friendship then at least an association. All four of us had practically lived in the library due to the fact that we all came from different houses. We had parted ways on the last day of school with understanding nods and slightly melancholy expressions.

But my mind wasn't on Sherlock or John as Ginny took me by side-along apparition to work that morning. It was on the massive workload I had waiting on my desk when I got in. Gringotts was a magnificent place to work, with its impressive marble front and glittering central hall. It was quiet that morning and none of the Goblins working at the long counters looked up as I passed. I shared my office with two other interns and it was accessed through a door behind the inquiries desk. Neither of my colleagues was in yet and as I slung my bag over the back of my chair I groaned. The pile of paper was bigger today.

"Afraid so." sighed Bill Weasley as he came in. Bill was a tall man in his late forties by now, with long greying hair and several scars across his otherwise handsome face. I had met him at Christmas in my third year when I had been visiting Lilly's place and he had dropped in for a chat. Lilly had explained to me how he came by his scars and I had had great respect for the man ever since.

"_More _translations?" I asked miserably, riffling through the new documents. "How can there be so many new ones?"

"The boys out in the field need to know what they're breaking into." Bill shrugged. "We can't have some hapless muggle archaeologist coming along and setting off a curse can we?"

I smiled despite myself. If I hadn't been born a witch I would most likely have grown up to be one of Bill's 'hapless muggle archaeologists', muggle-born as I was. I sat down and pulled the first sheet of hieroglyphs towards me, taking up a quill in my other hand.

"Don't worry." chuckled Bill. "You'll get your chance to work in the field eventually, you just need to do the donkey work here first, we all had to."

I snorted as Bill left the room. I knew for a fact that he, Head boy and owner of eleven O NEWTs had practically skipped straight from Hogwarts to Egypt without so much as a brief pause at the bank. But I couldn't complain, I was lucky to get this job in the first place. The morning slipped by uneventfully until lunch time. I was just leaving my office and wondering where I should go for food, when I spotted someone quite unexpected coming out of my boss' office across the hall.

"Sherlock?" I called in surprise. Sherlock Holmes looked up but his face registered none of my shock. He was wearing a casual blue suit under his navy blue robes that could have passed for an over coat in muggle London. John Watson in comparison looked rather shabby in his brown coat.

"Gwen! I didn't know you'd got a job here." John said as I came over to them.

"Just a few weeks ago, what are you doing here?" I asked. Several Goblins raised their heads to glare at us and I recognised the warning signs.

"Uh, I was just about to go out for lunch, want to join me?" I said hastily. John and Sherlock nodded and together we stepped out into the bright sunlight. Diagon Alley wasn't exactly buzzing on this work day so we took seats in an almost empty Leaky Cauldron.

"So how have you been, how's Lilly?" asked John once we'd ordered food.

"She's fine, landed herself a job in Magical Cooperation so expect her to be running for Minister any day now." I said and John laughed. Sherlock was giving me his side-long, deduction look. It only took him ten seconds.

"So you're staying with the Potters." he said and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know that never gets old." I chuckled. "Go on then, how did you guess?"

"I didn't guess I observed. Your clothes are three days old suggesting you don't have many outfits to change into, so you're living out a suitcase. You could be staying in a hotel I suppose but you didn't pass your apparition test and need someone to take you to work, and anyway a low level job like yours can hardly earn you enough to stay somewhere close to the office like here for example, so you're staying with a friend. Lilly being your best friend it would be a probable assumption to make that you were staying with her."

And all this he said in one breath. I shook my head in wonder and decided not to compliment him. I had seen him do it so often at school and expressed how impressed I was so many times that I had long ago run out of things to say. Instead I turned back to John.

"So how are things going with you? Got a job yet?"

"Yes I'm a trainee healer at St Mungo's." said John with a touch of pride. "Specialising in conflict wounds so a lot of Aurors come in."

"Congratulations." I said, smiling. "And speaking of Aurors, have you joined their ranks yet? I know Harry would kill to have you on his team."

I directed this last at Sherlock and he closed his eyes momentarily.

"Dull." he sighed. "I have no interest in Ministry work, I'm self-employed at the moment."

"Is that Sherlock-code for unemployed?" I asked wryly. Sherlock scowled and John laughed.

"He's a 'consultant Auror'." John said, sketching quotation marks around the word. "Working out of our flat."

"You got a flat together, where?"

"Just down the street, Mrs Hudson is renting out."

"Bloody hell how much do you earn?!" I exclaimed. "Premises in Diagon Alley? You've got to be kidding me."

"Mrs Hudson owes me a favour." Sherlock said dryly. "I helped out three years ago when her husband was due to be sent to Azkaban on a murder charge."

"Oh you got him off?" I asked and Sherlock smiled one of his rare smiles.

"No I ensured he went."

I stared at him for a moment before shaking myself and asking,

"So what were you doing at the bank this morning?"

"Griphook had a job for me and I thought I'd investigate." said Sherlock. His eyes were beginning to wonder around the room, a tell-tale sign that he was getting bored.

"What kind of job?" I asked suspiciously. I had learnt to expect illicit activities wherever my boss was concerned and this sounded odd alright. John started to say, "We can't really talk about it-" but Sherlock cut across him.

"There was a breach in security last night and he's asked me to look into it."

John shot him an annoyed look and my eyes widened.

"What, Gringotts security?!" I asked in shock. "Why isn't he asking the Aurors to deal with this? Or at least the Law Enforcement Squad."

"They're trying to keep it quiet." said John irritably. "And they didn't actually take anything."

I stared at him eagerly and he rolled his eyes.

"They somehow got into one of the old high security volts and wrote some graffiti on the wall, like a code." he said grudgingly. My curiosity was peeked even further and I asked,

"What kind of graffiti?"

"We were going to check it out later." said Sherlock unexpectedly. "You can come if you like."

"Sure! Beats the damn paper work any day." I said fervently. John was giving Sherlock a questioning look but Sherlock just ignored him as the food arrived.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It was a long ride down to the crime scene. The rickety old cart bumped and juddered its way down to the very depths of the bank, so deep under London that no human could ever tunnel down this far. This place was Goblin made.

"You'll find what you need inside." said Griphook, pointing at the open door of a cell with his long, yellow fingernail. He was very short even for a Goblin so he barely came up past my waist, but I still flinched as he swung up his arm. He gave me a nasty smile.

"Be sure to return to work as soon as your friends are gone Miss Williams." he smirked and I nodded before scooting after Sherlock and John.

"What's his problem?" John asked in an undertone and I shivered.

"Don't ask." I sighed. The cell was in pitch darkness so Sherlock lit the lamps with a lazy flick of his wand. They threw dancing light onto the back wall which bore the cryptic graffiti. Except it wasn't so cryptic to me.

"Fifteen?" I asked, my voice echoing in the empty space. "What's the significance of that?"

Sherlock whipped around to stare at me intently.

"How do _you_ know what it means?" he asked accusingly. I couldn't help but notice and be insulted by the emphasise he put on 'you' and I scowled.

"Why do you always have that tone of surprise when I know something and you don't?" I complained. "Its part of my job to know what those mean!"

I pointed at the symbols. There was an upside-down horse-shoe of sorts and beside that were five vertical dashes. All of it seemed to have been painted onto the rock. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and John snorted his amusement.

"She's got you there Sherlock, can't argue with an expert." John sniggered and we both threw him annoyed looks.

"So these are hieroglyphs?" Sherlock said pointedly, moving over to peer closely at the markings.

"Yes." I confirmed. "They mean the number fifteen, but what the heck does that mean?"

"Who found this?" Sherlock asked Griphook and he strode past me without a second glance.

"Mark Bulstrode, he's one of our Curse Breaker apprentices too, a rather more competent one than Miss Williams here." said Griphook nastily and I blushed furiously. Mark was no better at me with translations or interpretation! In fact he was a bit of a dunce on the history side of things, but he was an extremely talented spell caster and that was what counted with Goblins. Not the history, just how fast they could get their hands on more gold.

"When did he find it?" Sherlock persisted and Griphook's beady eyes narrowed.

"This morning, he was doing a rudimentary search of the lower cells. We do that every so often, to check no one's been locked inside."

Sherlock pursed his lips and paced around the cell, muttering to himself as he went. John and I recognised the symptoms and let him get on with it. Griphook wasn't so indulgent.

"Well?" he asked impatiently when Sherlock hadn't spoken to any of us for a whole minute. "Can you help us find how they got into the bank? You know we are willing to pay you handsomely for it."

"I can discover the identity of your security breach but I don't need a financial incentive." said Sherlock passively, before striding past the Goblin and seating himself in the cart ready to go. John gave a nervous sort of laugh.

"He joking obviously!" he said firmly. "Just put the money in his vault for him"

John and Sherlock left the bank once we reached the surface and Griphook frowned me back into my office. His comment about Mark had nettled me and I was angry for the rest of the afternoon. When my shift finally ended at half four I descended the marble steps outside in a fit of bad temper. Lilly wasn't waiting for me like she normally was and I guessed that the crisis at the Ministry was keeping her late at the office. Great, public transport in was then. I started to make my way down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron when John stepped unexpectedly out of the apothecary before me.

"Heya John, Sherlock got you running errands?" I asked, eyeing the arm load of porcupine quills John had.

"Yep, don't ask me what he wants them for, I've learnt just to accept it."

I sniggered and John jerked his head back the way I had come.

"Why don't you come in for some tea? You know he likes having more than one person to express how impressive he is."

"Uh…" I said, checking my watch and chewing my bottom lip. "Yeah alright, Mrs Potter doesn't normally expect me back straight away anyway."

I followed John back up the high-street until we came to a stop outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream parlour, run by the late Florian's niece. Next to it was a somewhat battered old blue door which John opened using his wand (juggling the quills precariously as he did). The hall was dark and the stairs creaked as we climbed to the first landing and went through a door into a cluttered sitting room. Sherlock had his back to us with his nose in a book.

"Hello Gwen." he said without turning around. I raised an eyebrow and waited. Eventualy Sherlock turned irritably.

"Aren't you going to ask how I knew it was you?" he asked impatiently.

"Well I know you're going to tell me anyway so go ahead." I sighed. Sherlock gave me a cold look.

"You're shoes, I'd recognise those battered old boots anywhere."

I glanced down at my boot self-consciously and John quickly offered me tea.

"She doesn't drink tea." Sherlock reminded him before I could open my mouth.

"Coffey please John." I said, before sitting down in the only chair that wasn't taken up by book and bits of parchment. John made the drink and brought it over to me whilst Sherlock paced up and down, much as I did during revision times.

"So have you got any ideas about how they got into the bank?" I asked when it became apparent that he wouldn't speak of his own accord.

"Several, but I'm not interested in how they got in, I'm more interested in why they got in." said Sherlock, turning on his heel to fix me with his sharp gaze. I had grown used to it in the past year so I gazed back, unfazed.

"Ok, why did they get in?" I asked, deciding to play along.

"Those hieroglyphs, the number fifteen, they were obviously a message for someone. And no one goes into those vaults except to do the check-ups."

"So you think it was for that Mark person?" asked John curiously and Sherlock nodded.

"What's he like?" he asked me and I scowled.

"A twat." I said bitterly. "He's Griphook's little favourite though so I'm screwed. He's a bit shifty I always thought."

"You think everyone you don't like is shifty." said Sherlock dismissively. "Still, it may be worth going to talk to him. I'll get his address from the bank tomorrow."

Sherlock promptly dropped the conversation after that, leaving John and I to catch up properly. We talked about John's work at St Mungo's and mine at the bank, and I filled him in on Lilly's hectic affairs at the Ministry. John got himself a beer and I didn't noticed how dark it had gotten outside until the clock chimed eight o clock.

"Oh crap!" I said in panic. "The Floo network will be closed now!"

"I'd take you but I've had this now." said John apologetically, indicating his beer. I glanced pleadingly at Sherlock but he shook his head.

"Didn't take the lessons, I have no interest in apparition." he said snootily and I dropped my head in despair.

"This is great!" I moaned. "I'll have to take the damn tube and they live ages away!"

"You could stay here tonight." John suggested, which made both me and Sherlock look up sharply.

"Seriously?!" I asked incredulously and John nodded, smiling.

"Of course, if you don't mind sleeping on the sofa that is."

"Oh John, thank you!" I cried with heartfelt gratitude. "I really appreciate this you know."

"No problem, I'll get you blankets and things."

"John, a word?" said Sherlock sternly. He and John retreated to the kitchen where they argued in low tones. Sherlock looked annoyed but John kept smiling mischievously. I caught words like 'breaking the agreement' and 'don't be childish!'. Eventually Sherlock retired to his own room with a huff and John and I stayed up a little longer, talking.

"What's with Sherlock?" I asked.

"Oh nothing." said John airily, though there was an odd glint in his eye.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I was rudely awakened the next morning by the scratching, wailing sound of a cat being swung around in a bag. I opened my eyes and peered furiously over the rim of the blanket. Sherlock was standing at the window in his dressing gown, playing the violin.

"What the hell?!" I snarled in disbelief.

"I'm composing, helps me think." he explained briefly and I buried my head in my pillow as the pitch increased. John stumped into the room.

"How kind of your brother to get you that for Christmas." he said darkly, slamming the fridge shut after he'd retrieved the milk.

"I'm learning, shut up." said Sherlock sharply and I pulled a second pillow over the first. With the unwelcome wakeup call over and done with I joined John in the kitchen to make some coffee.

"When does the Floo Network open?" I asked wearily and John checked his watch.

"In ten minutes." he informed me and I yawned.

"Right, I'd better get going then. I'll nip home, have a shower and then come back for work. Thank you, again, for letting me crash."

"No problem." John assured me. "We're going to talk to this Mark Bulstrode character this afternoon, want to come along?"

"Ok, I'll swing by after work." I agreed. As I left, I caught sight of Sherlock glaring at John pointedly. Slightly confused, I hurried down the stairs and through the early morning commuters towards the Leaky Cauldron. I pondered Sherlock's odd behaviour as I joined the queue to use the fireplace in the pub. I knew he didn't like me, but Sherlock didn't like anyone so that wasn't such a big deal. But in school he had always been content for me to hang around with him and John, what had changed now?

I wandered around in a stupor all day at the bank, earning me a reprimand from Griphook twice. But I didn't care and after my shift ended I made my way back to the flat. The boys were all ready to go and as usual Sherlock ignored me. But it was a kind of forced ignorance, like he was deliberately avoiding my gaze. Irritated, I spoke to John instead.

"So did you find out where Mark lives?" I asked once we were walking down the high-street again.

"Oh yeah, just down here." said John, indicating a side street tucked out of sight between Quality Quidditch Supplies and the Apothecary. I had never been down here before and I soon saw why. Contrary to its entrance, the street was very wide and open, with expensive looking town houses lining both sides. I gazed around in ill-disguised disgust.

"I can barely afford a change of clothes!" I complained. "How can Mark, who does exactly the same job as me, afford a place like this?!"

"His father is high up in the Ministry." said Sherlock. "And his mother dabbles in muggle stocks."

He said it grudgingly, as if he couldn't help himself from answering a question even if he didn't want to talk to the person who'd asked it. I let him go ahead before rounding on John.

"Ok seriously, what is his problem?!" I demanded angrily and John glanced over my head to make sure Sherlock couldn't hear before dropping his voice.

"You confuse him." he muttered knowingly. I stared at him but before I could ask what he meant Sherlock called,

"Here it is."

We walked to join him before house number ten. Sherlock pushed open the gate and walked up the marble steps to ring the doorbell. I heard it echoing inside, but no one came to answer it. We stood there for a while until John suggested,

"Maybe we should try again some other time."

But Sherlock wasn't paying attention. He was peering down the side of the house were the shadow of a ladder could be seen. I caught his drift at once and jumped over the wall into the alley below.

"Gwen!" hissed John. "We can't break in!"

"I'm not breaking in, I'm just checking it out!" I called back, jogging over to the ladder and starting to climb. The boys were right behind me and watched as I reached a balcony. There were a set of French windows at the back of the house and they were ajar. I peered through the curtains fluttering in the breeze uneasily. This didn't seem right somehow.

"Hello?" I called nervously, pushing the window open further and gazing around. "Anyone home?"

The sitting room was deserted and as I heard Sherlock climbing up behind me I entered the house tentatively. Everything seemed in its proper place, so I crossed to a door and opened it. Inside was a bedroom, and on the bed lay a dead body.

"Why is it," began Lestrade laboriously, striding up and down before us. "Whenever something happens it is always you three?!"

We exchanged glanced but none of us spoke. We were sitting on the sofa in a silent row as the Magical Law Enforcement Squad searched the house for clues. The body on the bed was Mark, and the evidence suggested that he had performed the killing curse on himself. Suicide.

But I remembered the last time a death had been passed off as suicide, it had turned out to be the work of a serial killed so I decided to keep an open mind. Lestrade moved away to talk to someone and Donavan took his place before us.

"Why am I not surprised to see you here freak?" she asked Sherlock. She glanced at me and snorted. "And you're still tagging around after him are you? Typical."

"Yes, thank you Donavan." said Mr Potter as he strode over to us. I stood up at once.

"Mr Potter, I'm really sorry! We just wanted to talk to Mark but he wouldn't answer so we just…" I trailed off under his stern gaze.

"I don't want to know why you were in here, I'll just accept that you were." he said firmly and I sank back down onto the sofa guiltily. He turned to Sherlock.

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again Mr Holmes. So what have you got for me this time?"

"Obviously a murder." sighed Sherlock, gazing over at the half open bedroom door where we could just see a sliver of the body. Harry blinked at him.

"Obviously?" he repeated wearily.

"Bulstrode was left handed, and yet the curse was inflicted on the right temple, takes quite a contortion act to perform a spell like that. Everything in this house is oriented to suit a left handed owner."

I glanced around but couldn't quite see what he meant and decided just to take his word for it. Lestrade it seemed did not share Sherlock's point of view.

"Look, he was banker right? So maybe he lost a lot of money, these things happen all the time! Just another Gringotts suicide."

"Mark didn't work with money, he was a trainee tomb breaker like me." I said, trying to keep the exasperation out of my voice. Sherlock glanced briefly at me and I could have sworn he wore the glimmer of a smile. But Lestrade seemed determined not to take advice from 'some kid' who was fresh out of Hogwarts and even Mr Potter didn't seem to think that the left handed thing was enough to go on. The case was closed before we'd even left the house.

They took us to the Ministry to write up statements and then Harry took me home via side-along apparition. I was quiet at dinner, only picking at my food until Lilly turned to me.

"You've been hanging around with Sherlock again haven't you?" she asked accusingly.

"What?" I asked distractedly, looking up from my soup. Lilly sighed.

"He has this effect on you every time! You don't talk for ages, you just drift off into a trance."

"I'm just thinking."

"Yeah so am I." Lilly snorted. "That you need a night out to take you mind off the weirdo."

That sounded like a very good idea so I agreed. Lilly and I left the house at eight and apparated into central London. There was club called 'The Wizhard' which was only visible to witches and wizards and was owned by a Hogwarts drop-out of a few years back. By the looks of things, he was doing well for himself. It was a hot spot for recent graduates and I saw several people I knew from school within about five minutes of arriving. Lilly was asked to dance by the former Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and I was left to stand by the bar, nursing a fire-whisky.

"Oh cheer up Gwen!" Lilly said, once she returned with her cheeks flushed pink and a phone number clutched in her hand.

"I did just find a dead person today." I reminded her and she scowled.

"You know, before Sherlock Holmes came along, you and I would never get into crap like this!" she complained. "But since meeting him you've seen two murders, an attempted murder, manslaughter and a bank break in! I'm telling you, the guy is a bad influence. Just stick to Curse Breaking Gwen and you'll be fine."

But the more people told me to stay away from Sherlock Holmes, the more I wanted to see him. It wasn't pleasant being patronised all the time or running into crime wherever you went, but it was a damn sight more exciting than my life at the moment. Lilly and I didn't stagger out of the club until well past midnight.

"You go on Gwen!" Lilly giggled, clutching the arm of Mr Washed Up Quidditch Captain. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I watched the pair of them swaying down the street with a half-hearted desire to talk some sense into my best friend. She would most certainly regret it in the morning if she went home with him, but then again, she was a big girl. And in the state she was in now, it was unlikely she would listen to me. With a sigh I turned to look for a muggle cab, and found a man standing before me. He was quite tall, with the cheeks of a person who might once have been chubby. He was dressed oddly for a night out on the town, a sharp suit with a waist coat and a pocket watch chain dangling from the pocket. He was leaning on his cane with his legs crossed, watching me.

"Good evening Miss Williams." he said in a cultured kind of voice. "I would rather like a word with you. I'd make some kind of threat but I think the situation is quite clear to you. Take me hand."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Side along apparition is not pleasant. It's even more unpleasant when you're sure you're being kidnapped and taken god knows where. When the compressing bands of air fell away I staggered to the side and into a wall. This might have had more to do with the three shots of dubious jelly I'd had earlier than the apparition but I didn't care. I was fumbling for my wand.

"Expeliarmus." said the man lazily, and my wand flew out of my hand. It bounced off the walls of the narrow alley and I made a dive for it, only to stop when I saw two other men were barring my way.

"May we dispense with the acrobatics Miss Williams?" asked the posh man, raising an eyebrow delicately. I turned back to him, my eyes darting all around for a means of escape.

"I haven't got any money." I said automatically. "I'm totally broke."

The man chuckled.

"Oh how quaint. But, ah, no, that's not why I asked for this little chat. What is your association with Sherlock Holmes?"

I frowned in confusion.

"We're friends." I said slowly and the man shook his head.

"No. Sherlock doesn't have friends."

"Ok then we're old school mates. He was in my year at Hogwarts."

"Better. Now what are your plans concerning him in the future?"

I was getting really freaked out now and quite annoyed at all the questions.

"Who are you? Why do you care?"

"I care because Sherlock Holmes is a person of significance to me. I am the closest thing to a friend that he has, although he would call me an enemy."

"Normal people don't have enemies." I said crossly and the man half smiled.

"You've met Sherlock, make your own deduction."

"So what do you want from me?"

"Information about Sherlock. Nothing too compromising I just want to know how he's getting on."

"God you almost sound caring, are you like his ex or something?"

"Most amusing, do we have a deal?"

"No, forget it. I don't spy on people, especially not someone who can tell me what I had for breakfast before I've even come into the room."

"I understand that you are not a wealthy young woman. Your troubles would be solved instantly, no more sofa surfing with the Potters."

I stared at him. Unless this man had Sherlock-like powers of observation, I was certain he'd been spying on me. I glared at him.

"No." I said firmly. The man sighed and checked his watch.

"That's a shame. I was hoping you'd be more cooperative than Healer Watson was but there you go. Good evening Miss Williams."

He started to walk away and I called after him indignantly.

"Hey! You can't just drag me out here and then leave me!"

"I think you'll find I can." he called back pleasantly.

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"Sherlock Holmes, open this door!" I yelled, hammering on 221B Diagon Alley. I waited a full two minutes before Sherlock slowly opened the door and pocked his head around it.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes you can bloody help me!" I spat, pushing past him and stomping up the stairs into the flat. John peered curiously over the door of the fridge as I paced around in a fit of agitation. Sherlock came in after me and sat down with a book. I snatched it out of his hands.

"When we started hanging out at school, you might have mentioned the fact that your brother is a psychopath!" I stormed. It had taken me two bus rides and a taxi to get home last night and on the way I had finally worked out who the mystery man was. Mycroft Holmes had been head boy when we all joined Hogwarts and I hadn't seen him in over six years. John came over laughing to himself.

"So Mycroft kidnapped you too did he? Did he have any luck?"

"Hell no!" I cried indignantly. "Creep tried to pay me to spy on you!"

"Shame you didn't take the money, you could use it." said Sherlock, tugging the book back out of my hand and opening it. I gazed at him in disbelief as he disappeared behind it.

"Ok, what is that guys deal?!" I demanded the cover.

"Mycroft works for the Ministry, although in effect he is the Ministry when he's not too busy being the department of Mysteries or the Muggle government on a freelance basis."

"But he's not Minister for Magic." I said with a frown. Sherlock lowered the book enough to show his eyes which for once were quite amused.

"No doubt he found you entertaining too." he muttered more to himself than to me. I stuck my tongue out at him before revolving on my heel to collapse in an arm chair.

"What a week." I groaned. "A break in, a murder, a kidnapping, and I've missed out on that stupid transfer!"

Sherlock lowered the book completely and fixed me with an intense look.

"What transfer?" he asked sharply and I scowled at the ceiling.

"Every year, one trainee tomb breaker gets to go out to Egypt for six weeks to get first-hand experience. Becky got it this year and that's only cause she's sleeping with the director of the dig. Oh and guess who got to go last year!"

"Mark Bulstrode." said Sherlock at once and I looked at him.

"Uh, yeah, how…?"

"Things are finally starting to come together." Sherlock smiled. "Mark finds the code on the bank wall that's been put there specifically for him, he panics, goes home to lock himself in but the killer still gets to him."

"How?" asked John. "Sherlock wizarding houses are impossible to apparate into or unlock magically, there are spells against that sort of thing."

"Could have gone in the window." I suggested. "Like us."

Sherlock pulled a face and shook his head.

"No, no our murderer is elegant, they have a system for getting in and out of buildings normal wizards couldn't get into. However they got into the bank, that's how they got into Bulstrode's house."

"Mm, maybe it's a ghost." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes and yawning. John recognised the signs.

"I'll make you some coffee." he said.

"Thanks." I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "But then I really need to get back. Mrs Potter is really getting tired of my late nights."

"We're not a café." Sherlock snapped unexpectedly. "If you want coffee go to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Sherlock be nice." called John from the kitchen and I smiled smugly at the detective. Sherlock was bad tempered for the rest of the evening and kept glancing up from his book to check if I was finished. It was as I drained the last of my drink that he slapped the table with his hand and made me inhale the dregs.

"Of course!" he cried, his eyes alive with excitement.

"Of course what?" I coughed. Sherlock stood up and started to pace around.

"Mark Bulstrode returns from Egypt with a package for somebody in his underworld gang but never makes the drop off! He got too cocky, thought he could get away with keeping the goods."

John and I glanced at each other and then back at Sherlock with identical puzzled expressions.

"Ok you've lost us again." said John. "What goods? And since when was Mark in an underworld gang?"

"Oh isn't it obvious?" said Sherlock impatiently. "He was part of the smuggling operation that's been working in Egypt since last year! This code of numbers written in hieroglyphs is how they all communicate!"

"Oh come on, that's farfetched even for you!" I scoffed. "You haven't got a shred of evidence to support that theory!"

"Gwen, this is very important so listen carefully." said Sherlock, disregarding my doubt entirely. "Go home tonight, and ask Lilly if she's heard anything in the office about the smugglers recently, ask if anyone's tracking them!"

"Lilly isn't that high in the department!" I cried. "She won't know anything about this! Trust me the most exciting thing that happens to her is angry junk mail about joyriding idiots over the Channel!"

"Just try, we have to crack this code. We crack the code, we catch the smugglers and the whoever murdered Mark Bulstrode. Oh, and Griphook might like to know you were the one who helped crack the break in mystery."

I opened my mouth and then closed it again, thinking.

"Then he might pick me to go on the transfer next year!" I muttered. "Hey there's a thought. Oh fine then I'll ask her! But don't expect anything ground-breaking."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my entire life!" said Lilly with firm scorn. We were both sitting in her front living room later that evening and I had just posed Sherlock's smugglers theory to her. I sighed and turned a page of Witch Weekly wearily.

"I told him that's what you'd say." I said boredly, gazing at an article about Gwenog Jones retiring from the Holyhead Harpies, my local team. Lilly shook her head in disbelief.

"That guy comes up with the stupidest crap! Why do you put up with him?"

"Hey don't shoot the messenger!" I said defensively. "I'll be sure to pass your scorn along to him."

"Look, if there was a smuggling operation in Egypt, we'd know about it!"

"Ok ok! Sorry I asked! Anyway, how was Roger's place?"

Lilly grimaced.

"I can't believe you let me go home with him! I KOed before anything could happen, thank god!"

The conversation was light for the rest of the evening and I was smug in the idea that I could go to Sherlock and tell him his theory was total BS. Unfortunately, fate had different plans. Just as I was ready to go to bed, Mr Potter called me into the kitchen.

"Gwen, how far has Sherlock got with his investigations at the bank?" he asked seriously and quietly. I gazed at him in some surprise.

"Not very far, he seems to think that Mark Bulstrode was a smuggler, and he was killed for stealing something."

Mr Potter watched me for a while. I knew his history of course, everyone knew his history, but since coming to live with him I had discovered him to be far more reserved and thoughtful than the Daily Prophet made him out to be. After a moment he seemed to come to a decision. Dropping his voice still further he said urgently,

"Ok, I shouldn't be telling you this but frankly we're getting nowhere with it and Sherlock may be the only person who can help."

"Help with what?" I asked in hushed tones.

"There is a smuggling operation in and out of Egypt."

"What! But Lilly said,"

"Lilly's too junior to know any of this and the press don't know because we don't want the smugglers to know how much we know."

"That's a lot of knows." I said weakly. Mr Potter grimaced in frustration.

"The smugglers always seem to be one step ahead of us! We don't know who they are or how they get into the most secure buildings. The break in at Gringotts! I know I've done it myself in the past but it's supposed to be impossible! Has Sherlock worked out what the code means yet?"

"No, we know the glyphs say fifteen and it's obviously a message for Mark, but we still can't work out what it is."

"Well keep trying, if we don't stop this half the artefacts in Egypt will be on black market auction by the end of the year."

So I set about racking my brains for a solution. The idea that there might not be anything left for me to excavate soon was too horrible to imagine, particularly after all the hard work I'd been doing at the bank! I was desperate to crack the code soon but no matter how much I pondered it, I couldn't imagine what fifteen might mean. In fact it was approaching Halloween when my stroke of brilliance came to me.

John and I had taken to eating lunch together in the Leaky Cauldron every day. Sherlock had never joined us and I hadn't seen much of him since telling him what Mr Potter told me. On this particular day, I was reading a letter from my brother back home. He wasn't a wizard, and as such was attending our local muggle secondary school. John was telling me about a chance meeting he'd had with Mary, a girl from our year at Hogwarts.

"And she asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee sometime. I mean, what does that mean? Grab a coffee, does she mean a date or just…coffee?"

"Mmm." I said, not listening. David's letter was full of nonsensical local news as well as details of his new coursework. Then my eyes alighted on a particular line and I choked on my lemonade.

'_and my history course work is going great. I'm researching Second World War codes, there's one where spies left numbers to each other all over the place. The numbers represent a page in a book and the word on the page.' _

"That's it!" I cried, beside myself with excitement. "That's bloody it!"

"What's bloody it?" asked John, quite startled. I leapt to my feet.

"Come on, we've got to grab Sherlock and head on over to the Ministry. Hopefully the Auror Office still has Mark Bulstrode's stuff."

"What's so important about his stuff?" asked John as we ran out of the pub and down the street.

"His books!" I cried gleefully.

{

[

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It took us five minutes to burst in on Sherlock, discover that he was still in his dressing gown, shout at him until he got dressed, exit the flat and run to the Floo Network Station. On the way I explained my epiphany to the boys.

"That is actually rather ingenious." said Sherlock, looking impressed in spite of himself.

"Thank you." I said, my cheek flushing as we skidded to a halt at the back of the queue. Sherlock looked at me.

"Oh no not you, the smugglers. It's a clever way to communicate with each other."

I scowled and John snorted. In no time at all we'd taken a fireplace to the Ministry and emerged into a large, glittering atrium. The sheer volume of people moving around was overwhelming and I simply stood there for a while, trying to take it all in. There were wizards and witches hurrying back and forth from the fireplaces, talking, shouting and exchanging pieces of paper. John prodded me to make me move out of the way of the fireplace. We struggled through the crowd towards a fountain with a memorial stone in the middle. We paused to look up at this.

"Are they…" I started to ask, gazing at it with a slightly surreal feeling. There were names all over the memorial and I heard Sherlock mutter beside me,

"Unnecessary showmanship."

I shot him an angry look.

"Could you at least try not to be so insensitive?"

"Why? Caring won't bring those people back."

The memorial was a reminder of all the people who had died in the last wizarding war, along with the dates of their deaths. Right in front of me I could see the name, _Remus Lupin_, and below him_ Nimphadora Lupin 'Tonks'. _

"Good people all of them." said a voice behind us. We turned and saw Mr Potter standing there. He was in him maroon Auror robes today and he didn't seem at all surprised to see us here. He was gazing up at the memorial too with a pensive expression. Then he seemed to snap out of it and looked at us instead.

"What can I do for you three?" he asked and I opened my mouth to explain my idea, but Sherlock got in there before me.

"We need to examine Mark Bulstrode's books, unless you've given them to his family or something silly like that."

Mr Potter raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"No not yet, we've been busy recently. Why do you need to see his books?"

"I think that the answer to the code is in one of them." I said quickly, with the tiniest stress on the word _I_. Sherlock rolled him eyes.

Mr Potter lead us down to the Auror Office which was full of cubicles. People were talking over the tops of their walls to each other and I ducked to avoid getting poked in the eye with a flying paper airplane.

"Mind the Memos." said Harry a little too late. Wizards and Witches said hello to Harry as we passed their desks and gazed curiously at us. We were by far the youngest people there and I avoided the many stares. Harry let us into a circular room with walls plastered with photographs and diagrams. One wall had a huge map of the world on it, next to a smaller one of Egypt. I recognised the major historical sights marked on it with little glowing pins.

"This is the heart of our smuggler investigation." Harry explained.

"How's it going?" asked John as he bent down to peer at an alabaster cat with a price tag around its neck. Harry sighed.

"Not very well. There's been almost zero activity in the past month and that's worrying. My head of department thinks we may have spooked them."

At this moment a red haired man hurried in.

"Harry, we've got a bit of a problem, the Daily Prophet had somehow got wind of the Dermstrang Case, they want a quote from you on your stand on Foreign Policy."

"Damn them! Thank for the heads up Ron." Harry cursed. Mr Weasley nodded and disappeared as Harry turned back to us.

"Sorry you lot, I've got to go and deal with this. I'll send someone to help you with Bulstrode's stuff. Just stay here."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

It was worth going to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just to see Donovan's reaction when we walked into the main office. She inhaled the coffee she was drinking and gave over to a violent coughing fit.

"What is _that_ doing here?!" she spluttered, glaring at Sherlock.

"Just on a tour, purely casual visit." Sherlock said sarcastically. Lestrade came in.

"Ok, play nicely kids." he said sternly and Donovan scowled, moping the coffee off with a napkin. Anderson came in with a clearly heavy box. He dumped at out feet with a venomous expression. John bent down to open it, revealing a whole pile of books.

"That many?" I asked, some of my enthusiasm draining away. Lestrade nodded.

"Yep, now you can't leave the premises with them, their still evidence. You can stay in here and do whatever you like, just stay out of everyone's way, ok?"

"Ok." I said. So the three of us sat down at a table and started going through the books one by one.

"We want a common book." said Sherlock, flicking through Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. "A book which everyone would have and wouldn't look out of place on any bookshelf."

"So…a dictionary?" John suggested, plucking one from the pile. We leant in as he turned to page fifteen. The first word was _appal_. Sherlock was frowning.

"No, no, that can't be right. _Pairs_ of numbers, fifteen is just one."

"Hang on, its ten and five!" I realised, thinking back to the symbols on the bank volt wall. "Yeah, not fifteen at all, I was wrong."

John flipped to page ten instead and ran his finger along the line, counting as he went.

"Three, four, five, _verb_. Hmm, don't think so somehow."

"Another book then, keep looking." ordered Sherlock. We perused all the books minutely until, just when I was getting bored, I came across something promising. A _History of Magic_, a book most people had because it was on the Hogwarts syllabus and yet hardly ever read.

"Here, what about this?" I said, holding it so that the boys could see and tapping the fifth word on the tenth page with my finger.

"_Revenge_." said Sherlock. "Revenge? I suppose…yes! That's it!"

"Great!" said John excitedly. "Uh, how is that it?"

"It's a threat." explained Sherlock, taking the book from me and gazing at the word. "A threat from the smugglers to Bulstrode. He stole from them, so they threaten him with revenge. The next day he turns up dead."

"Chilling." I commented. "So, what now? I guess we should tell Mr Potter."

Sherlock didn't look entirely like he was listening, he'd gone into his thoughtful silence again. He followed us absent-mindedly back to the Auror Office where we were told quite waspishly by a Junior Auror that Mr Potter was still busy talking to the Daily Prophet. He also felt the need to add that we shouldn't be hanging around here without proper clearance. We took this as a hint to get lost and we did so quickly.

"I'll just tell him tonight." I said once we were back in the Atrium and fighting the crowds back to the fireplaces. "If he's not working late again."

"Do either of you fancy going to the circus tonight?" asked Sherlock suddenly. John and I stared at him.

"Uh, come again?" asked John like he wasn't sure he'd heard correctly. Sherlock handing him a flyer and I peered at it sideways.

_For this week only, Madam Shia's amazing troupe of performing Elves! Warehouse 7, Nocturn Alley, 9 pm. Get your tickets now!_

"Where did you get this rubbish?" I asked sceptically. I'd heard of 'Performing Elves' before, Lilly's aunt Hermione riled against them all the time. They were just a wizarding version of a freak show.

"I acquired it from an obliging billboard outside the Leaky Cauldron yesterday. I thought it would be interesting."

"Sherlock aren't these things illegal?" asked John.

"And immoral!" I pointed out angrily. "Making House Elves perform for wizarding entertainment, its horrible!"

"I thought you were open to expanding your cultural horizons." said Sherlock, as if he couldn't understand our objections.

"Sherlock forget it, what's brought this on all of a sudden? Don't you remember we've got a case to solve right now?" said John. Sherlock shrugged and stepped into the emerald flames without another word. John looked at me and I shrugged.

"Don't look at me! How should I know what the hell he means, he's been your friend longer than he has been mine."

"Honestly? I don't think I'll understand him even when we're eighty!" sighed John,. before he too disappeared.

[

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"I can't believe you persuaded me to do this!" I hissed as I walked with Sherlock down a dark Diagon Alley. There were a few other people out, mostly pissheads not much older than us and I strove to match Sherlock's fast pace.

"Relax you're doing fine." said Sherlock quietly, glancing around to check we weren't being followed. I pulled my cloak tighter around me and dropped my gaze as we passed a couple of people going in the opposite direction.

"Why is this so important to you anyway?" I whispered irritably as we ducked down Nocturn Alley. I'd never been down here before and was thoroughly wishing I wasn't here now.

"I have a hunch, and going on past evidence I like to assume that my hunches are generally correct. Oh, if anyone asks you're my girlfriend and your last name is Selwyn, ok?"

"Uh, why?"

"Muggleborns aren't generally liked in the circles we'll be moving in tonight. But the Holmes name carries a bit of weight in the wizarding world so we should be alright."

"Fine." I muttered darkly. I was liking this less and less and we walked further down the street and came to a line of abandoned looking buildings. I envied John and his late night shift at St Mungo's now. I hadn't had a chance to go home and tell Mr Potter what we knew yet, I'd only been able to send an owl to Lilly explaining where I was (though not explicitly) and that I was staying with the boys again. We came to the right address where a man was standing outside with a clipboard and a furtive look. Sherlock linked arms with me as we approached.

"We have a reservation, name of Holmes." he said, completely coolly. The man glanced down at his clipboard and then at our faces. His eyes lingered on me in an unpleasant way before he nodded.

"Go ahead." he said, pushing open the door for us. We passed him and I looked around, my heart pounding. The floor of the warehouse had been converted into what looked like an old fashioned café. There were perhaps a dozen tables with two or three chairs each set around them and there were Witches and Wizards sitting at most of them. Waiters were circulating with drinks and as we sat down at our own table one of them set glasses of champagne before us.

"So where's '_Madam Shia and her amazing Elves'_?" I asked in an undertone. In answer, Sherlock pointed up. I glanced towards the ceiling and saw several wires and tightropes suspended above us.

"They make them go all the way up there?" I asked in disgust. "There isn't even a safety net!"

"Shwsh, we don't want to be noticed." hissed Sherlock. His eyes were darting around, calculating as they went. I looked around too, pretending to take a sip of my drink. The other clientele all looked rather shifty in my opinion and though I didn't recognise any of them, they all seemed a good deal older than us. I was just about to ask Sherlock who they all were when the lights dimmed a stooped, elderly witch in black robes appeared in a spotlight.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" she said in a foreign accent, possible Middle Eastern in origin. "Tonight we have, for your entertainment, creatures from a far off land, demons from another world, courters of death!"

I tried to supress a sound of disgust as the whole audience turned their eyes upwards. I looked up too, curious in spite of myself. High above on a platform I could see a tiny figure that was so slight I guessed it must be female. The Elf didn't seem to have any clothes on at all accept for a kind of loincloth around its middle. I remembered Mrs Hermione Weasley telling our class last year about Elves and their clothing rights. An Elf was only free once it was presented with proper garments and even from here I could see the poor thing shivering the in chilly October night air.

She suddenly soared from the platform and I gasped in shock. She fell through the air and was caught a moment later by a second Elf, swinging from a trapeze. I saw how close a catch it was and instead of clapping like the rest of the audience I felt a great wave of anger, sadness and concern for the Elves. I glanced at Sherlock to see what his reaction was but what shocked to find his seat empty. I looked around but couldn't see where he could have gone.

Then I noticed that one of the doors set in the wall was ajar and I shook my head exasperatedly. Of course, I had just been a cover for getting in. I watched the show for a little longer, making a mental note to mention this place to Mr Potter tomorrow, and was quite glad when it ended. More drinks were served and whilst the rest of the clientele mingled and chatted I wanted nothing more than to leave. I got up and headed for the exit. Sherlock could bloody well mind for himself tonight, I thought furiously. I hated it when he left me in the lurch like this!

I had just made it out onto the street and was wondering if I should just go straight back to the Potter's after all, when someone grabbed me from behind. They clapped their hands over my mouth and my eyes widened in shock. I screamed and struggled, kicking furiously. Whoever it was, they were incredibly strong and the dragged me around the side of the building. I plunged my hand into my pocked, scrabbling for my wand. A second pair of hands grabbed my arms and pinned them to my sides. Yet another person relieved me of my wand and then I was hustled in through a side door.

The room on the other side was dark and smelt musty. A candle flickering on the table illuminated a single chair which I was pushed down into. The woman who had introduced the show came into view and she pointed her wand at me.

"Incarcarus!" she cried and roped wrapped themselves around me, tying me to the chair. She smiled down at me.

"Now Miss Williams, you are going to help us." she leered.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I struggled against my bonds desperately as Shia stepped forward and loomed over me. She was toying with her wand, tapping it against the palm of her hand so that red sparks flew out the tip. I kept a wary eye on it as she leant down and smiled, revealing yellowing teeth.

"You're friend Mr Holmes has been keeping us most entertained these past few weeks." she said, casually waving the wand in my face. "But now he's getting too close and I'm afraid that means we have to eliminate him, and you, and Healer Watson for that matter."

"You do anything to us and Harry Potter will come down on you like a ton of bricks!" I said quickly, then, on impulse I added, "He's outside right now! Him and the whole Auror Office, you don't think we came here alone do you?"

"I suggest you don't try lying to me Miss Williams." hissed Shia. "I happen to be a highly accomplished Legilimens, and know when I am being lied to."

I gulped. I really had landed myself in the shit this time hadn't I? Shia pulled a chair out and sat down facing me.

"Where is Sherlock Holmes?" she asked and I glanced around for inspiration.

"I don't know." I said truthfully. "He's ditched me, again."

Shia's eyes narrowed and she pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket.

"Never mind, we shall catch up to him later. But now, you are going to read this for me."

She held up the paper to reveal a rubbing of a line of hieroglyphs. I stared at it, bemused. Then I realised.

"You're the smugglers!" I cried. "You're the ones who killed Mark aren't you?!"

"That foolish young man thought he could outsmart us." tutted Shia. "But you are an intelligent girl, I see you won't make the same mistake. Now, translate the glyphs."

"Why can't you do it?" I asked desperately. "You specialise in Egyptian artefacts, why don't you read it?"

Shia's face twisted in what was unmistakably embarrassment, and I realised.

"You can't read Ancient Egyptian?!" I asked incredulously. "You, smugglers, can't read what you're smuggling. Oh! That's why you needed people like Mark!"

"It may have been a mistake to kill him before he could translate what he stole from us." conceded Shia. "Now, enough of this, translate it."

I swallowed hard and looked at the paper. I had never had to work under such pressure before, or without the help of a book. But did my best.

"Uh, that first symbol there," I said, nodding, "It means 'tomb', the next is a kings name because it's in a cartouche. Um, A, L, uh, E maybe, X,"

I paused, and then looked at them in horror.

"You're kidding me!" I gasped. "You've never _found_ it!"

"Found what?!" asked Shia excitedly. I didn't answer, they clearly had no idea of the value of what they had found. No wonder Mark had kept it to himself, this was worth a fortune! Shia glared at me as I continued to be silent. She stood up suddenly and pointed her wand at me again.

"Tell me, or I will kill you."

"I wouldn't be much use to you dead." I told her coldly, injecting an almost Sherlock like air of contempt. Shia scowled.

"You're right, maybe I should just _Cruscify_ you instead!"

I never got to see if her threat was genuine because at that precise moment, an explosion rocked the whole building. Shia clutched the table for support and looked around wildly.

"What was that?!" she barked. I could hear high pitched screaming coming from somewhere, it sounded like the Elves had been caught in the blast. A second explosion followed the first and my chair toppled over. Someone rushed to grab me but I heard Shia cry,

"Oh just leave the mudblood! We'll find another translator!"

I heard running footsteps and a door slamming. The table had been knocked over and the candle set it ablaze. I struggled and screamed,

"Help! Help me!"

Smoke started to billow up as the dry wooden structure burnt all around me. I coughed and blinked as the smoke stung my eyes. And then,

"Gwen?" called a voice and I laughed in relief.

"Sherlock! I'm in here! Help me!" I shouted back. The door flew open and Sherlock ran in. He bent down and slashed with his wand.

"Diffindo!" he cried, and the ropes fell away. He pulled me up and dragged me out of the warehouse.

"Get down!" he cried, and we were blasted off our feet by yet another bang. I fell to the floor and threw my arms up over my head as glass and bits of debris rained down on the pair of us. When all was quiet I raised my head to look at Sherlock.

"You sure know how to treat a girl on a date." I sighed.

[

[

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"Aw." I grumbled as John dabbed an evil smelling paste onto my cuts. He smiled and apologised.

We were in the Emergency Treatment ward in St Mungo's where Sherlock and I had been taken after the Law Enforcement Squad turned up to investigate the explosion in Nocturn Alley. Apparently, some muggles had seen the smoke over the tops of the buildings and now the Department of Misinformation was going spare, not to mention the Obliviators who had been called to the scene.

Mr Potter stood at the end of the bed I was sitting on looking torn between stern and amused.

"This is going to take some smoothing over." he sighed once John had replaced the potion on the shelf. Sherlock, who had refused treatment for his many scratches, was watching Harry closely.

"Did you catch the smugglers?"

"Some of them, thanks for the tip off by the way. We haven't been able to snatch this Shia character but the Elves have been found and are now being looked after. Hermione's taken a personal interest and she sends her thanks."

I was too annoyed with Sherlock to take much pride from this honour. I glared moodily at him, fiddling with the crisp bed sheet.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me they were the smugglers!" I spat at him and he looked confused.

"But I did tell you." he said and I spluttered indignantly.

"No you bloody didn't!" I cried and Sherlock looked thoughtful.

"Oh, I must have forgotten then, sorry."

John chuckled and asked,

"So go on then, you're dying to tell us how you worked it out."

"Quite simple really." said Sherlock matter-of-factly. "I realised the smugglers needed some kind of cover for coming and going around Europe and when I saw the flyer it became obvious. But what really clinched it was the Elves."

"What about them?" asked Harry curiously.

"Oh come on, they're how the smugglers got in and out of Gringotts and Mark Bulstrode's apartment."

Harry closed his eyes momentarily and sighed.

"Of course." he said. "So simple! Why didn't we see it?"

"See what?" I asked eagerly. Harry explained.

"Elf magic is different to wizard magic. They can apparate inside buildings we can't, like Hogwarts, or Gringotts. You know, those Goblins spend so much time complaining that we don't recognise their talents, and they ignore other creatures! Bit rich really."

[

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The next day I was back at work like nothing at all had happened. The hustle and bustle of the bank was just the same as ever and the pile of work on my desk was bigger than ever. I rubbed my tired eyes as I sat down and pulled the new files towards me. I glanced up briefly and then did a double take. Sherlock and John were back, emerging from Griphook's office. I watched them for a moment before getting up and crossing the hall towards them.

"Couldn't stay away?" I asked and John smiled.

"We were just here to hear how grateful Griphook was for how we solved their security problem. Oh, and Sherlock had a favour to ask."

"What favour?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing the consultant auror. His face was unreadable and all he said was,

"Griphook wants to see you about something. He's waiting."

Frowning, I walked past them into Griphook's office. The goblin was sitting at his desk writing something on a piece of parchment. He didn't look up as he spoke.

"It seems things aren't working out as well as we had hoped out in Egypt."

"Why? What's happened to Becky?" I asked and Griphook grimaced.

"Something about an argument she had with the director of the dig. Anyway she's coming back and we need someone to replace her."

I stared at him, my heart pounding faster and faster.

"Y-you mean, me?!" I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"Do you see anyone else in the office?" asked Griphook dryly. "You'll leave next week for three months. I'll expect a full report when you get back, understood?"

"Yes sir." I said faintly. I left the office in a kind of daze and walked all the way out onto the steps of the bank. Sherlock and John were standing theretalking and when they saw me they broke off.

"So? Did he tell you?" asked John eagerly. I didn't answer exactly. I just looked at Sherlock for a moment before throwing my arms around him and hugging him tightly.

"Thank you." I whispered. Sherlock had gone all stiff and looked very embarrassed when I let him go. But I didn't care, I whooped and punched the air.

"Egypt! I'm actually going! I can't believe it!" I cried jubilantly. "I can't wait to tell Lilly!"

"Oh yeah, about that." said John, for some reason giving Sherlock a sly look. "We were wondering, since you don't have anywhere permanent to live, maybe would you like to came and live with us."

I stopped whooping and stared at him in surprise.

"Really?!" I asked and John shrugged.

"Sure, we've got a free room and the rent isn't half bad. Plus you'll be closer to work."

I glanced at Sherlock who was glaring at John through narrowed eyes. I shrugged too and grinned.

"Sounds cool." I said.

"Great!" said John smugly. "I'll get you a key."


End file.
